


Dancing on Thin Ice [Discontinued]

by warqueenfuriosa



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Angst, Athletes, F/M, Fluff, Ice Dancing, Ice Dancing AU, Ice Skating, Lyra is alive the whole time! it's a miracle!, Olympics, Pining, Rating May Change, Romance, Whump, Winter Olympics, but Galen still has Issues, constructive criticism welcome!! just be kind :), figure skating, ice dance au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warqueenfuriosa/pseuds/warqueenfuriosa
Summary: Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor are one of the top ice dance teams in the world. Heading into an Olympic season, they’re the clear favorites to win. A gold medal is theirs to lose.The last thing they want is to jeopardize the Olympic dream they’ve worked so hard for by falling in love with each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Figure skating has always been something very near and dear to my heart. But I've largely kept it to myself and I don't talk about it very often. The support I've received to write this AU has been phenomenal and I can't even begin to describe how much I appreciate the encouragement and kind words that have been shared to see this fic come to life. ♥
> 
> EDIT: Nov. 8, 2018. I've left the Star Wars/Rogue One fandom. I haven't decided yet if I'll leave my fics available on Ao3 or take them down. But I will no longer be continuing this work.

****

 

**Internationaux de France (Cup of France) 2009-2010 season**

Show time in less than five minutes.

Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor stood in the warm-up area, headphones on and blaring their routine music at full volume. Cassian held his hands out to Jyn palms up and she placed her hands in his. Curling his thumbs over the top of her knuckles, he held on with a firm grip, grounding himself as well as her.

They didn’t watch Shara Bey Dameron and Kes Dameron’s program, lighting up the rink with their Mambo No. 5 routine.

They didn’t see how Shara and Kes danced, flirted, and turned on the charm that earned them such unbeatably high artistic scores from the judges.

And they didn’t see when Kes slipped.

He could do the step sequence in his sleep. But ice was tricky. Performance jitters still managed to sneak in. He fumbled to catch himself without putting his hands or knees on the ice and losing even more points. For four interminable seconds, the indestructible team of Dameron and Dameron fell apart. The door was open. Just a crack. Just enough.

The gold medal was up for grabs.

 _If_ Erso and Andor could get a clean skate.

No one had skated clean all night.

 _Too many soft spots on the ice_ , were the reports after each pair finished their program.

_Near the south end of the rink, it’s practically just water._

_This is the Grand Prix. You’d think there would be better preparations than this._

_I want to speak to the judges for a second shot at the rink. I can’t skate on water. This is ridiculous._

When Shara and Kes were finished, despite that one little bobble in their performance, the crowd cheered so loud that the vibrations rumbled through the floor.

It didn’t matter how anyone else skated, where each team landed on the leaderboard, what kind of scores had been laid down.

Analyzing other teams for weak spots they could utilize would come later in Cassian’s flat, replaying the recording to pick apart program components, artistry, technical elements and their corresponding score variances.

But tonight, the only thing Jyn and Cassian cared about was skating to the best of their abilities.

Cassian shifted closer to Jyn until his forehead touched hers, his grip tightening on her hands. She opened her eyes and raised her gaze to meet his.

 _We got this,_ she mouthed.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands encircling her waist, gliding up her back. Everything else—camera crew, reporters, coaches, the other skaters—was shut out. This moment was theirs alone.

Coach Malbus was the one watching every performance, calculating numbers in his head, scores ratcheting higher and higher.

If Erso and Andor won first place, there would be no question—a spot on the Olympic team would be theirs, regardless of how well they skated during the rest of the Grand Prix circuit.

If they placed any lower than that…they would have to pray that the selection committee was merciful and generous for once.

Shara and Kes received their scores—easily taking first place to no one’s surprise—and they left the kiss and cry area, arms loaded with flowers and stuffed animals.

Next on the ice, Erso and Andor.

Coach Malbus headed to the back. He found Jyn and Cassian where they usually were at this time before a performance—eyes closed, foreheads pressed together.

His hands settled on their shoulders with a calm, steady pressure. Jyn and Cassian pulled off their headphones, placing them on the chair beside their gear.

“You’re up,” he said, his voice low enough that the circling vultures of the camera crew couldn’t hear him. “Smiles on. Get deep into your knees. Trust the ice and your instincts. And let the music carry you.”

His large hands curled around the back of their necks as he guided them towards the rink.

Cassian locked his fingers with Jyn’s. They paused at the edge of the rubber mats to take off their skate guards, set them on the wall. The door was open, the ice scratched up and scarred from dozens of blades before them.

They were the last to skate. The best position for knowing exactly what score they needed to win. The worst position for the nerves to grow out of control.

Jyn turned her head to look at Cassian. She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

As they faced the long stretch of ice coupled with the next two minutes and fifty seconds of lifts, spins, and footwork, they wouldn’t say a word to each other.

All they would do was dance.

Then the announcer introduced them over the deafening speakers.

“Representing the United Kingdom, Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor.”

Right on cue, a blinding smile burst across Jyn’s face—a mask of performance, cute and flirty to match the cha-cha theme of their short dance. The routine hadn’t started yet but she was already in character.

Cassian slid his own mask into place, shoulders squared and chin held high.

Jyn headed straight for their starting point—slightly off center from the middle of the rink. Right down to business as she always was.

But Cassian took the full minute of prep time he was allotted beforehand. Tested his edges. Circled the rink once to get a feel for the ice and scout out any potential hazardous areas.

Definitely too wet at the southern end of the rink. They couldn’t avoid it—their required rumba sequence as well as a lift went straight through it. They would just have to be careful.

Cassian returned to Jyn’s side. She cut quite a figure on the ice, dressed in peach pink and red skirts bedazzled to sparkling brightness, commanding attention, grabbing the eye and demanding that everyone in the arena looked at her. In contrast, Cassian was all in black—light and dark, two halves of a whole.

He rolled his shoulders to loosen any lingering tension before facing Jyn and settling into the starting position. Jyn placed her hand in the middle of his chest, dipped her chin, and flicked her gaze up to look at him through her lashes.

Cute. Flirty. Cha-cha ready.

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three heartbeats.

The first strains of music started, blaring through the rink with Latin rhythm. Jyn and Cassian exploded into a blur of motion.

No matter how many times they did this, no matter how well prepared, calm, and focused they were, every competition held an unforeseen gauntlet of pitfalls and disasters, lying in wait to strike at any moment in an effort to rattle even the most composed skater.

Jyn didn’t hesitate to throw every ounce of herself into the dance, even when it meant close contact—Cassian’s chest pressed to her back, hands on her hips, his mouth against her neck just beneath her ear.

The kind of contact that had sparked countless rumors of a possible relationship between them.

She launched herself into his arms without faltering, legs locked around his waist. Her lips were an inch away from touching his, one arm around his shoulders, the other fisted in his hair.

 _The judges eat up that romantic shit,_ Jyn had said more than once in practice. _And we need all the points we can get against the Damerons._

 _Just part of the routine,_ he reminded himself, despite how he wished those rumors were true.

Cassian sang the lyrics quietly under his breath, following Coach Malbus’ advice and letting muscle memory take over.

 

 _Well, I hear you whispering the words, to melt everyone_  
_But you stay so cool_  
_My muñequita, my Spanish Harlem, Mona Lisa_  
_You're my reason for reason_  
_The step in my groove *_

He stopped singing only when his concentration took precedence—stomach twisting, throat tight—as the twizzles came up, the one element he dreaded more than lifts. He kept Jyn in his line of sight as they stepped into it, perfectly synchronized for one, two, three, four, five rotations.

Change position—arms over the head, free leg extended, toes pointed.

One, two, three, four rotations.

Another position change, arms pulled in tight to the chest, spinning a little faster…

And then out.

Right on the beat.

As they took the corner—the dry one—Jyn’s hand found his without even looking, trusting, knowing he would be there. Cassian’s arm curved around her waist, her shoulder tucked in towards his chest, settling into the hold. Each synchronized stroke gathered speed, blades scratching with a _rasp, rasp, rasp._

The wet corner was next, dangers of soft ice looming in Cassian’s mind. Jyn twisted away from him as they approached with only moments to line up their lift.

Cassian couldn’t stop her or the program, no matter what his gut feeling was screaming at him. Jyn would never forgive him for throwing away their chance at a gold medal and a spot on the Olympic team when they had skated on soft ice plenty of times before without a hitch.

Jyn placed her skate on his thigh as he crouched, adjusting to take her weight. His fingers cupped the back of her thigh and he picked her up off the ice. She balanced on one foot, fingers hooked beneath her other blade, extending her free leg into a full split position, one arm out for balance. The perfect pose. Gold medal worthy. Future Olympian material.

Her blade bit into Cassian’s leg. He gritted his teeth. No more than seven seconds…

Three…two…

One second was all it took. One slip.

Cassian’s skate lost its grip on the ice, sliding through slick slush. His foot went out from under him. His grip on Jyn’s leg tightened. But it wasn’t enough.

He was already falling.

And so was she.

Cassian couldn’t track her descent, much less soften her landing. His body tensed, waiting for the impact, eyes screwed shut tight, muscles rigid. His shoulder struck the ice, cold water soaking through the thin material of his silk shirt.

His eyes flew open.

Jyn lay on the ice a few feet away, curled on her side, her back to him.

Motionless.

 

 

* * *

 

* Smooth // Santana, Rob Thomas


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for the comments and sharing your love and excitement for skating with me. I have been on cloud 9 and I pretty sure I'm never coming down ♥

The last thing Jyn remembered was soaring. The lights of the rink. The chill of the air accompanied by the heat of adrenaline pounding through her veins. Halfway through the performance. All clean so far. Less than a minute of program left.

The soft spot in the rink, slushy. Shining with water instead of ice.

The lift. Cassian’s hand clamped around her thigh, the pressure of each of his fingertips against her skin.

No more than seven seconds. They couldn’t afford a penalty. They needed every single point they could grab to beat the Damerons.

Three…two…

Slip.

Jyn dragged her eyes open.

Hazily, a ceiling came into focus. Not the metal rafters of the ice rink. Instead, it was the sterile plain white of a hospital.

_No, no, no._

She shifted, one hand coming up to touch her aching head. Her tongue was too thick, too dry in her mouth to form words apart from incoherent frustrated noises.

“Take it easy.”

Cassian’s voice. A hand on her shoulder with firm, gentle pressure.

Jyn forced her eyes open wider, blinking repeatedly until her vision cleared.

“The competition…?” she said.

Cassian pressed his lips into a thin line. He didn’t need to say anything. She knew that look. After skating with him for ten years, he rarely had to speak for her to understand what he wasn’t saying.

Jyn closed her eyes and swallowed hard. This couldn’t be happening. To have an injury now, in the middle of the Grand Prix circuit, was the last thing they needed. And judging by the look on Cassian’s face, it wasn’t an injury she could bounce back from fast enough to make up for lost time.

That thought was still sinking in when another thought dragged across her sluggish mind.

“Mum.” Jyn’s eyes flew open. “She was right in the front row. She must have seen…everything. Is she okay?”

Cassian nodded, his thumb skimming over her forearm. Lyra had been beside herself when she had arrived at the hospital but he wouldn’t tell Jyn that. He wouldn’t tell her how Lyra sat in the chair beside Jyn’s bed, carefully working the bobby pins loose from her hair, whispering over and over, _you’ll be fine, my sweet baby, just open your eyes._

It seemed a private, secret sort of thing that Lyra and Cassian shared between them. Speaking of it was taboo. Speaking of it brought back the horrors tenfold and made it hard to breathe all over again.

In exchange for his silence, Lyra wouldn’t tell Jyn how Cassian was so shaken that he could barely stand. She wouldn’t say anything about how he cupped Jyn’s face, kneeling beside her on the cold, cold ice, wearing his heart on his sleeve despite the audience looking on, watching every move he made.

“She stayed with you earlier,” Cassian said. “But you’ve been out for a while. I told her I’d keep an eye on you so she could go home, get some rest.”

He wouldn’t be anywhere else but here until she woke up anyway.

Jyn opened her mouth, closed it again. She plucked at the sheet and didn’t meet his gaze.

“And Dad?”

Those two words. Drawn out of her throat like shards, cutting through the stillness.

For the second time, Cassian pressed his lips into that thin line. Jyn turned her head away.

“So he’s…busy,” she said. “Again.”

Cassian curved his palm over her forearm as a reminder that she wasn’t alone. But the sting remained.

Galen rarely came to any of Jyn’s competitions. He claimed that his business took precedence. When she was younger, a bright-eyed, round-faced eight-year-old with brand new, shiny white skates, she made excuses for Galen’s absence. She thought the world of him.

Ten years later, the light had left her eyes, replaced with grim acceptance. Galen had his priorities. And Jyn wasn’t one of them.

Before Cassian could say anything, the tread of footsteps approached in the hallway and the door clicked open.

“Jyn,” Cassian whispered, part plea, his tone heavy with exhaustion. He curled his hands around hers as if he could shelter her, protect her.

She could _feel_ the guilt radiating off of him in wave after wave.

“The doctor is here,” he added.

Jyn forced herself to face the fact that she wasn’t dreaming. This was real. Her father wasn’t coming to see that she was all right. And the odds of getting to the Olympics now had dwindled to non-existence.

The doctor consulted her clipboard, flicking through pages.

“The swelling in your brain has gone down,” she said. “That’s good news at least. The concussion is too severe for you to go home yet but you should be free to leave by Wednesday.”

 _Just a concussion,_ Jyn thought. She could get past that fast enough.

The next competition on the Grand Prix circuit was Skate America in a month’s time. The Damerons weren’t slated to compete there which left only one other team that might give Jyn and Cassian trouble—the Skywalker siblings.

Fresh out of the junior ranks, making their debut season in the senior world, they were good but their choreography was watered down. They didn’t have the judges’ favor yet.

Jyn and Cassian had experience under their belt, passion and chemistry. And a history of never finishing lower than the top five. Beating the Skywalkers wouldn’t be a problem.

Headache be damned, Jyn would be back on the ice in no time.

Internationaux de France might have been a disaster but Jyn and Cassian could take it in stride. The Olympics were still within reach…provided that they didn’t make another mistake in any of their performances from this point forward.

It was a long shot but they weren’t out of the running.

“When—?” Jyn croaked. She stopped, cleared her throat. “When can I skate again?”

Cassian dropped his gaze to the bed sheets. Through the fog of pain killers, Jyn barely registered the faintest tightening of his grip on her hand. She couldn’t focus sharply enough to read his body language any further than a vague sense of impending dread.

Whatever came next, it wouldn’t be good.

“Not until your arm heals, I’m afraid,” the doctor said. “Broken in two places. That will take some time to mend itself.”

Jyn glanced down. Hours ago, her right arm had been extended for balance during the lift. When she fell…it must have taken the brunt of her weight. Now her arm was wrapped in a cast from wrist to shoulder. Stiff. Immobile.

“How long?” she insisted. “A month? I can be on the ice in a month, right?”

“Jyn,” Cassian said, his voice hoarse. He squeezed her hand so tightly that her fingers went numb. “We’re out.”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth.

“For the rest of the season.”

Jyn tore her hand away from him. She refused to look at him or the doctor, refused to speak. She stared at the ceiling as the doctor rattled off a few more notes. But Jyn didn’t hear anything.

She swallowed. Again. And again. Blinked. Fingers clawed into the sheets.

Finally, the doctor left the room.

Jyn’s composure, so tentatively held together, cracked apart.

She sobbed, despite the fresh pain that pulsed through her head, one hand over her mouth to quiet herself. The Olympics had been right at her fingertips only a few short hours ago. Now it was completely out of reach.

“Jyn,” Cassian said, his voice soft and ragged in the low light of the room. “Jyn, please…don’t…”

His chair rattled as he pushed it back and stood, leaning over her bed. He wished he could pull her close, hide her away from everything, absorb her grief if he held on tight enough. But there were too many wires and tubes, her body too tender to move. He settled for rubbing her arm, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Jyn sat up as carefully as she dared to, wrapped an arm around his neck, and buried her face in his chest.

“I’m sorry, Jyn,” Cassian whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He fully expected her to hate him. She had put her faith and trust in him to support her. And he let her down, in more ways than one.

But Jyn didn’t hate him. She never could. She never did. Not for something that was completely out of his control. Things like this happened all the time to any skater, regardless of skill level.

That didn’t make it any easier to accept.

She cried against his shoulder, fingers fisted into his shirt—the same silk shirt from his costume, slightly damp and smelling of crisp ice rink air with a hint of her shampoo underneath. More than likely, he had been in the ambulance with her. And then paced the waiting room, refusing to leave for any reason—a shower, a change of clothes, food, rest—until he could be by her side again and see for himself that she was all right.

“We were so close,” Jyn rasped.

“I know,” Cassian said, utterly miserable.

This was entirely on him. She had been flawless, not a hair out of place for the whole program. He was the one who slipped. He was the one who didn’t catch her.

He ruined their chance for the Olympics.

_His fault. His fault._

“We had it,” she said.

Cassian squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of Jyn’s trembling voice. She cried so rarely that he felt utterly helpless when it did happen. Coach Malbus prepared them for performance jitters, publicity pressure, coping with the crippling expectations of perfectionism.

But Coach hadn’t said anything about what to do in a situation like this. Jyn with tears in her eyes, her heart broken into a thousand pieces, hopes and dreams lying bleeding in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

It felt hollow on his tongue, hanging in the air. It didn’t ease her pain. It didn’t reverse the damage to her face, her body.

Jyn’s hospital gown lay crooked, exposing her bare shoulder where remnants of glitter from her costume still clung to her like tired, faded stars.

Cassian lowered his mouth, brushed a delicate, feather light kiss of apology across her skin when his words were not enough to convey the remorse for what he’d done. Words would never be enough.

Jyn took in a shuddering breath and drew back. Wiped her palm across one eye then winced when she made contact with her other eye. The same side of her face that hit the ice.

Cassian had seen the video Bodhi took from the audience. It made him sick to watch it. One second, the world was theirs. In the next moment, hardly more than a blink, Jyn was lying on the ice, the image forever burned into his brain.

The right side of her face was purple, her eye nearly swollen shut. It was a miracle, the doctor had said, that Jyn didn’t fracture any bones in her skull or suffer severe brain damage.

 _She’s hard headed in more ways than one,_ Cassian thought. _Thank god for that._

Jyn leaned back against the pillow. Released a shaky breath.

“Four years,” she said.

Cassian propped a hand on the bed beside her hip. He wasn’t ready to pull back yet, to put even a few spare inches more of distance between them. Standing this close to her, he could shield her from anything that came her way. He could gather her into his arms and use his body to soften any blows where he had failed to before.

“What are you talking about?” he said. “Four years for what?”

Jyn shot him a look, as if to say _don’t play dumb._

“In 2014,” she said. “Russia is hosting the Olympics. Even though Vancouver is—"

She stopped when her voice wobbled. Clenched her jaw. Breathed. Exactly as Coach Malbus had taught them to do when the panic began to creep in.

“Obviously, we won’t be going to Vancouver now,” Jyn said, resolute. “But we _will_ make Russia.”

Of course she already had her sights set on the next available Olympic season. Her eyes were fluttering open and closed, barely able to stay awake on heavy doses of pain medication. But her mind was spinning a mile a minute. Calculating. Assessing. Analyzing. Planning. No time for wallowing in self-pity for her.

Cassian hesitated, selecting what he said next with great care. There was no need to remind her that while she was healing, her conditioning would suffer. They had both seen their fair share of injuries over the past ten years of their skating career. She was well aware that it would be a fight to get into shape again. He wouldn’t point out the obvious and rub salt in the wound.

Even when Jyn was back on the ice—he had no doubt she would be in the rink well before that cast came off—recovering from a fall that bad would take considerable mental effort.

On his part as much as hers.

Jyn might be the one bearing bruises and broken bones after the accident, but Cassian had his own scars to contend with. If she had her way, Jyn would be lacing up her skates within the hour, injured or not. For Cassian…it wasn’t that simple.

“That’s…a long way off,” he said. They would work out the details later. But not while her eyes were still glassy from pain killers. “A lot can happen before then.”

He wasn’t saying no, not really. He _couldn’t_ say no to her. Ever.

Especially now with half of her face swollen and purple. A tear she had missed slid down her cheek to drip from her chin.

Cassian reached out and thumbed it away, his knuckles lingering against her jawline one, two, three, four seconds longer than necessary.

“Plenty of time to perfect that damn lift,” Jyn said.

 _Jesus Christ,_ Cassian thought. _She’s going to be the death of me._


	3. Chapter 3

“Stop _looking_ at me like that,” Jyn grumbled.

She lay on the floor in Cassian’s flat, two throw pillows tucked behind her head, her arm in a sling, resting across her stomach. Her free hand patted around for the popcorn bowl until she found it beside her.

She didn’t take her gaze from the television as she spoke.

Vancouver had her spellbound. The opening ceremony had lasted until two in the morning. That was nine days ago and Jyn had fallen asleep in front of the television every night since then.

Tonight, he knew, would be no different. The ice dancing short program was on.

“Like what?” Cassian demanded, darting his gaze away. Caught in the act.

“Like I’m about to burst into tears at any second. I’m fine now. It won’t happen again.”

Cassian wiggled a finger into the worn brown weave of his couch.

“It’s just…” he started.

This time, Jyn did twist around to glare at him. “ _Don’t_ say it.”

“I didn’t.”

 _Even though I should,_ he thought.

She glared at him a little while longer then settled back against the pillows.

“You’re thinking about it so loudly I can hear you from here. We’ve been over this. No more apologies.”

Cassian huffed and stood. “Then I’ll take my loud thoughts to the kitchen.”

“The competition is about to start.”

“I won’t miss anything.”

While Jyn had been glued to the television screen every waking moment since the Olympics began, Cassian could barely stomach it.

Jyn never said it was his fault. She didn’t blame him and she wouldn’t. Regardless, he had apologized. Repeatedly.

Over and over and over.

Until she finally snapped at him.

Before the Cup of France, whenever Jyn mentioned the possibility of going to the Olympics in Vancouver, her eyes had lit up in a way Cassian had never seen before. And the way she smiled when she said it, a little breathless with wonder and anticipation— _Vancouver_ —it was real, true, and genuine. Not that mask she wore to match the mood of whatever performance she was putting on at the time for a routine—an undercover spy on a mission for a spot on the podium, a precious medal around her neck.

He didn’t see that light in her eyes now. She did her best to hide it. But when the Olympics were on and she was here, lying on the floor of his cramped flat instead of walking in the ceremony like she was supposed to be, like she should have been, like she _deserved_ …it ate away at him until there was a massive hole in his heart.

Cassian bypassed the snacks spread out across the kitchen table and braced his hands on the sink.

Jyn wouldn’t stop, not until she got her Olympic gold medal. And he wanted the same thing as she did. But not at the cost of more incidents like France.

If that happened again…

The quiet patter of Jyn’s socked feet signaled her arrival. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before she came for him. Told him off for brooding and blaming himself when there was nothing he could have done.

Jyn thunked the popcorn bowl onto the kitchen table.

“Do you want to quit?” she said. Hard. Bitter.

Cassian released a long, low breath then turned to face her. He crossed his arms, leaned back against the sink. Her chin jutted out in _that way_ he knew too well. She was prepared for a fight. Ready to go for the jugular and really sink her teeth in.

She was only eighteen—five years younger than him—and almost two heads shorter than he was, especially without the extra height of her skates. In only socks, she was tiny.

But the pissed off look in her eyes was terrifying.

“Is that what you want?” he said, quieter than she had spoken and not as aggressive in an attempt to diffuse the situation. A waste of breath but he tried anyway.

Jyn fished a carrot stick from the container on the table and pelted him with it, smacking him in the chest.

“Don’t answer my question with another question,” she said. “I _hate_ it when you do that. I asked you first. _Do you want to quit?_ Because I’m ready for Russia. I’m going to Russia. And if you’re not—”

She broke off. She didn’t need to finish. The threat was bad enough unspoken, pressing between them.

_I will change partners._

Ten years, they had been together. Ten years of trust and bruises. Ten years of fake smiles and sequins.

Would she really do it? Would she leave him behind after all that? Find another partner and hope whoever she was paired with didn’t hold her back?

Without a doubt, yes. She would change partners. She wanted gold. And she had it in her to win.

Cassian knew he wouldn’t be able to watch that. Someone else would be there on the ice with her, arm around her waist, hand in hand. Someone else would be there to carry her in a lift.

And if she fell? Would her new partner catch her? Or would she wind up in the hospital for a second time with broken bones and broken dreams all over again?

“I’m…adjusting,” Cassian said, slowly, cautiously. “I need time.”

Jyn eyed him for a moment, considering. Then she moved to the refrigerator, pried the door open and pulled out a bottle of water. Her gaze shifted to the side as she came up to him, held the bottle out, cap first.

Living with only one functional arm had left Jyn frustrated, angry, and annoyed, even more so than usual. She refused to be viewed as helpless and god have mercy on the poor soul who dared to coddle her. Opening that bottle of water on her own was a challenge she gladly would have taken on by herself.

But in a way, as she offered the bottle to him, waiting, he knew this was an olive branch. They were a team and they had suffered a sizeable blow that brought them to their knees. It was going to be a battle to reach Russia in four years. They needed each other, skating side by side, through the highs and lows that were to come.

Cassian accepted the water bottle. Twisted the cap open. Handed the bottle back.

“Don’t take too long,” she said, not looking at him.

She left the rest of that unsaid as well, though it was too soft and quiet to be a threat.

_I like having you around._

Jyn wouldn’t say that out loud. But he had learned a long time ago to read between the lines of what she couldn’t—or refused—to say.

Then she turned away and headed back to the living room.

“The skating has already started,” she called.

Cassian sighed. Pushed away from the sink.

“Time to keep tabs on the competition,” he said.

***

The Damerons were the last to skate. There was no way Jyn would be awake for it, but Cassian wasn’t about to point that out.

She moved from the floor, thankfully, and settled on the couch across from him. Gradually, as the hours slipped by, she sank deeper into the couch, chin drifting towards her chest.

Then she startled awake, shook her head, and rubbed her eyes.

“I can tell you what happens tomorrow,” Cassian said.

Even though the routines would change for the next season, Jyn would be replaying the recordings anyway, picking everything apart in the following days. That was her trademark. She never gave up, bruised, broken though she was.

“Nope,” Jyn said, scrubbing a hand over her face and sitting up straight again. “It’s not the same. Watching it live is different.”

Cassian knew that wasn’t the whole story. She had soaked up every second of the Olympics she could get. But nearly all of that time had been spent at his flat.

“It’s bad at home, isn’t it?” he said.

Jyn shot him a dirty look. He raised his hands in surrender.

“Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

She drew her knees up to her chest, returning her attention to the television. A beat of silence passed.

“Mom and Dad are fighting again,” she muttered.

Cassian cast a sideways glance at her. Galen and Lyra’s marriage had been falling apart for years. Galen worked too hard. Lyra was frazzled, stretched thin between supporting her daughter’s figure skating career, while struggling to hold down a job, and sort things out with her husband.

“Then take the couch for tonight,” he said.

He knew better than to say anything more than that. Getting her to open up about it wasn’t going to happen. When Jyn talked, she rattled off skating elements and their corresponding scores. She didn’t bring up her personal life if she could help it.

But she had stayed at his flat so many times for one reason or another that it was commonplace. Extending the offer wouldn’t get her hackles up. His flat was closer to the rink than her parents’ house. When practice sessions started before sunrise, it was easier to skip the drive home and sleep on his couch.

Galen and Lyra had objected at first, but now they didn’t bat an eye, even if she was eighteen and legally responsible for herself. They had trusted Cassian to carry their daughter on the ice for ten years. Eventually, that trust grew to encompass more than just skating.

So, Jyn’s clothes crept into his closet. Her shoes tangled with his by the door. Her skate guards wound up in his duffel bag more often than his own skate guards did.

The flat was practically hers already, short of paying rent.

At first, Jyn didn’t respond. She continued to watch the television, tapping her pen on her notepad as it balanced on the armrest of the couch.

Then very quietly, she whispered, “Thank you.”

She ripped off the cap of her pen with her teeth and began doodling endless circles on the page, head bowed, as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world and she wasn’t shutting him out on purpose.

“I’m thinking of getting my own place,” she said.

Cassian nodded. Folded his hands in his lap. He tried not to stare at her as he waited for further explanation.

“When?” he prompted.

She shrugged.

“We’ll have to pick up extra sponsors to cover the living expenses,” he said.

Jyn made a noise of frustration, jabbing at her notepad with her pen. “I know.”

Despite the disaster in France, they’d had a good run and it wouldn’t hurt their chances with sponsors. Although Jyn hated the publicity aspect of it. She wanted to skate. Not charm her way into money. That was the problem with protecting her independence so fiercely—she hated relying on anyone else but herself.

“I’ve…started applying to some part time jobs,” she admitted, grudgingly.

That would eat into their practice time considerably. And once Jyn was on the ice again, she would need every minute of practice she could get.

“What about Bodhi?” Cassian said. “His flat is a mess but he’s your brother and he’s always happy to see you. I’m sure it wouldn’t take much wheedling before he caved and let you stay with him.”

Jyn stabbed her paper again with a pointed glance in his direction.

“His flatmate hates me.”

“Kay doesn’t hate you.”

“Well, he doesn’t exactly like me, either.”

“That never mattered to you before.”

Jyn’s eyes narrowed slightly—a sign that Cassian was flirting dangerously close to earning himself some physical harm. He quickly steered the conversation into another direction.

“What if—”

He stopped. A faint flush started at the base of his neck and he shifted, cleared his throat. How could he suggest what he was thinking without making it sound weird?

“What if what?” Jyn said.

There was an edge of meanness to her voice, still prepared to fight.

Cassian dragged his gaze over to hers. Swallowed.

“What if you moved in with me?” he said. “The rent is already paid for. You spend almost as much time here as I do. And the rink is two blocks away.”

 _Perfectly reasonable,_ he thought. _Not weird or awkward at all._

Jyn tilted her head, considering. “Actually, that might work.”

“Is that a yes then?”

She hummed. “Maybe. I’d have to talk to Mum first. If I left, she’d be…”

“Alone,” Cassian finished for her.

Jyn sighed and went back to doodling on her notepad. Circle, circle, circle.

“Pretty much,” she admitted.

He reached over and placed two fingers on her cast. “The offer will always be there whenever you want it.”

Jyn glanced down at his hand. He started to draw back but she took him by the wrist, pulling his hand into her lap. She turned his palm up and the pressure of the pen’s tip pushed into his skin. After a moment, she released him.

In the center of his palm, a small, slightly crooked, smiley face grinned at him in blue ink.

Jyn didn’t look at him. Her attention was already focused on the next pair of skaters on the ice, pen poised to take notes.

That was the end of the conversation—a conversation Cassian wasn’t entirely sure how he’d made it through in one piece, after proposing an offer he was certain Jyn would never, ever accept.

But she was thinking it. As a friend. As a partner. That’s all he could hope for. That’s all he needed.

It didn’t take long before Jyn dozed off again. When a particularly long commercial break wouldn’t end, she groaned and wedged a throw pillow against the arm of the couch. She stretched her legs out, propped her socked feet in Cassian’s lap.

“Wake me when the skating is back on, okay?” she said. “I’m just closing my eyes for a minute.”

“Sure,” he replied, knowing it was a lie as the word left his mouth.

He wouldn’t wake her, even if that meant risking her wrath for a day or two. She needed the sleep.

Slowly, Cassian curved his hand over Jyn’s ankle. It was rare for her to instigate contact outside of the rink. She liked her distance and personal space.

On the ice, it was different.

Closeness was required. Closeness earned points and judges’ favor.

_Just part of the routine._

But she hadn’t been on the ice for months now. And Cassian…if he was honest, he was going through withdrawals. Seeing her nearly every day and not getting to touch her at all, in a hold, a lift, nothing.

Cassian skimmed his thumb back and forth over the top of her foot. Sometimes, when Jyn’s eyes were closed, she didn’t look half as intimidating as she usually did, especially now in her red galaxy leggings, fluffy white socks, and an over-sized sweater that seemed to swallow her whole. It felt a little easier, a little less impossible, to tell her things he couldn’t say otherwise.

_I can’t watch you get hurt again._

Cassian shook his head. He had no right to feel the way he did, no matter how hard he tried to smother it. And yet the persistent ache in his chest remained.

They were partners. Since she was eight, and he was thirteen, they had skated with their eyes on one thing: Olympic gold.

Jyn wouldn’t jeopardize that for…anything. Certainly not something as fleeting and insubstantial as _feelings_.

Other skaters managed it, Cassian reasoned.

The Damerons appeared on the television screen. They had been paired together since the second grade, started dating in high school, and now they were married. And from the looks of their short dance—flawless, no trip up on the step sequence this time, unlike at France—they were well on their way to sitting in first place with a comfortable lead.

Kes swung Shara into a rotating lift, their faces inches apart, smiling at each other as if they were the only two people in the entire rink, the entire world.

That wasn’t an act. It was too real, too blinding with the obvious love they didn’t bother to hide.

Maybe Cassian wouldn’t chicken out this time. Maybe he would finally ask Jyn on a date. They could have a real dinner and discuss other things that didn’t involve costume design, musical selections, or travel itinerary for the season.

But, as usual, whenever he considered that thought, he brushed it aside. Too risky.

He was replaceable. Jyn could find another partner in a heartbeat. There were plenty of skaters who would gladly take his place alongside such a competitive, driven person as she was.

Cassian released a long, low breath of frustration. As carefully as he could, he slid Jyn’s notepad and pen out of her grasp without waking her and started taking notes on the Damerons’ program.


	4. Chapter 4

As much as Jyn wanted to win, she wasn’t a sore loser. And in the end, neither was Cassian. Especially when it came to Kes and Shara.

Jyn rose up on tiptoe in an attempt to see above the crowd pouring into the baggage claim area of the airport. She wobbled with a sound of frustration.

“Hold these,” she said as she shoved the bouquet of roses into Cassian’s arms.

Then she placed her good hand on his shoulder for support and stood on tiptoe again, neck craned, searching.

“I can’t see them,” she said.

“Probably because their plane landed barely five minutes ago,” Cassian replied.

“Someone’s grumpy today.”

“I’m not—”

Jyn dropped onto her heels, standing flat-footed again. “You were the one who gave me a pep talk about being happy for Kes and Shara.”

“I _am_ happy for them.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

Cassian sighed. “Jyn.”

Jyn just stared at him with that look. Daring him to contradict her. He kept his mouth shut and turned his head away to search the crowd, too.

After a minute, he said, “Shara and Kes deserved their win. For that, I am happy for them. Really. But you have to admit that it’s…bittersweet. All things considered.”

Jyn’s gaze fell to the floor and her hand slid away from his shoulder. “Maybe a little.”

Cassian glanced down at her. Standing this close to Jyn, wreathed in the vanilla scent of her soap, flowers in his arms, his shoulder was almost—but not quite—touching hers. He could see the shadow of her eyelashes against her cheek, her face expressionless as she shuttered herself up so quickly, so easily.

It wouldn’t take much to close those few inches of distance, to brush his knuckles across her cheek and tell her that their time would come eventually. They would stand on that podium one day, even if they had to kill themselves to get there.

Haltingly, he brought his hand up…

“There they are!”

Jyn’s face brightened and she forged her way through the crowd without looking back to see if he was following or not.

Cassian shoved his hand in his pocket, fingers curled into a fist as if he could crush the thought he had nearly acted on. Vancouver was over and the next Olympics were on the table. He couldn’t afford to have thoughts about Jyn that involved anything other than skating.

But it was proving harder to stop those thoughts than he realized.

“I’m not sure how I feel about another man getting roses for my wife.”

Kes grinned at him and flung an arm around Cassian’s shoulders in greeting.

“They were Jyn’s idea,” Cassian replied, passing the flowers into Shara’s arms.

Shara smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Both of you.”

“So,” Jyn said with a twinkle in her eye. “Now that you’re Olympic champions, what’s next on the agenda?”

Shara and Kes exchanged a look, and…something…passed between them, something soft and well-versed. Something that didn’t require words to be understood.

“First thing to go,” Kes said, “is the diet. I’m eating every fatty, greasy, sugar-laden food I can lay my hands on.”

“Then let’s get you some fish and chips,” Cassian said.

***

“Can I see it?” Jyn said.

She folded her hands on the restaurant table and leaned towards Shara.

“Here?” Shara said with a laugh.

She gestured to the table, littered with straw wrappers, crumpled napkins, empty salt packets, alongside the remnants of their meal. Far from a glorious setting.

Kes didn’t hesitate to oblige. He wiped his hands on his napkin, reached into the collar of his jacket and drew out his medal.

“That is pure, unbridled lust in your eyes, Erso,” he said.

“Shut up, Dameron.”

Kes chuckled. But when Jyn reached out to trace the small etching of Olympic rings, he pulled it back with a teasing look.

“Keep your mitts off my gold.”

Shara pinched his arm. “Be nice. Stop rubbing her nose in it.”

“She was the one who asked. And I will show off this baby to my dying day.”

Jyn tilted her chin up. “Well, Cassian and I have already been talking about Sochi.”

Kes smirked. “Shara and I have, too.”

A heartbeat of silence.

“What?” Cassian said.

Shara opened her mouth then sighed. “We haven’t made an official decision. We’re still talking, but…”

Again, that same look, that same…something, passing between them, laced with affection.

“We’ve got some hunger left,” she added. “Our coach has retired though. So, since we were already coming to visit you on our way home from Vancouver, we thought…why not kill two birds with one stone and talk to your coach about taking us on?”

Jyn reached across the table to squeeze Shara’s hand.

“You mean we could be training together?” she said.

“Maybe. Nothing is set in stone yet, though.”

Cassian was silent.

When he gave up his Mexico citizenship to skate for the United Kingdom with Jyn, he lost many of his friends. But Kes and Shara stuck around. They understood the sacrifices he had to make for the love of the sport and they didn’t hold it against him.

Ever since Jyn and Cassian had started competing on the senior level, they had skated head to head with Kes and Shara. The friendly rivalry was comforting amidst the stress of competitions. It wasn’t that he dreaded having the Damerons around, because that wasn’t true. They were the closest thing he had to family.

But the idea of sharing practice ice with them was brutal. Training with other couples was nothing new. It was the fact that this was Shara and Kes.

And it would drive Jyn _up the wall_. She already pushed too hard as it was and now she had the Damerons to feed off of, to drive her even further beyond the limitations she was convinced she didn’t have.

Although that wasn’t what concerned Cassian the most.

Shara and Kes let their love for each other shine through their performances as bright as the sun. They didn’t hold back. They didn’t temper it.

Jyn would want to match them. She would want to do _better_ than them.

Which meant she would insist that their own programs became more romantic, charming, sexy, passionate.

_Just part of the routine._

Cassian didn’t think his poor heart could take that.


	5. Chapter 5

“Jyn, damn it, I really think you should wait,” Cassian said through his teeth for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.

But Jyn was already slipping out of his grasp, gliding onto the rink.

It was seven o’clock in the morning on Monday in early March. And even though Jyn was still wearing a bulky, immovable cast, her patience had finally reached its breaking point.

She spun around until she was gliding backwards, facing him. Cassian refused to leave his position from the side of the rink. If he put his blades to the ice, it would only encourage her. The soft ground of the rubber mats was safe.

“The cast is coming off next week,” Jyn countered. “It’s close enough. And I’m sick of waiting.”

“What happens if you fall?” Cassian crossed his arms. “Then we’re set back even further.”

Jyn clenched her jaw and her eyes darkened. He hated himself for saying it like that. She wasn’t the one who had set them back. It was him. But playing the blame game would get them nowhere.

Cassian’s shoulders sagged and he held out his hand to her.

“Please?” he said, more gently this time. “It’s only a week.”

Jyn met his gaze, unwavering, unblinking. She pushed off with one stroke, then another, distancing herself even further until her back hit the wall. Deep into the rink.

Today, she wore all black. Black leggings, black turtleneck, black headband pulled low over her ears. When she wore color as she usually did for competitions, she seemed bigger, brighter, larger than life.

But when she wore black, she looked too small.

Or maybe that was due to the fact she was so far away from him. If she slipped, he wouldn’t be able to get to her in time.

“Just edges and footwork,” Jyn said. “No lifts.”

Cassian huffed and stopped just short of saying, _no shit._

He would never agree to practicing lifts when her arm was still in a cast. Even she had to acknowledge that was not a good call.

When Cassian still didn’t budge, Jyn said the one thing she knew would break him.

“Nothing outside of hold,” she said. “Then you’ll be there to catch me.”

 _I didn’t catch you when you needed me to,_ he thought.

But he stepped out onto the ice anyway.

Jyn was smug as she straightened her spine, chin up, one hand out, waiting for Cassian. He slid in beside her, clasped her hand, and his arm settled around her waist, assuming the hold as easily as if months hadn’t passed since their last practice.

After two warm-up laps around the rink, Jyn and Cassian fell into the sweeping edges of swing rolls. She couldn’t use her right arm for balance which forced them both to go at a slower pace as she leaned on Cassian too heavily.

As reserved as Cassian was about getting back on the ice, it did feel good to pick up the same habits and routines that he’d developed with Jyn over the years. There wasn’t much in his life that had been solid or dependable. But skating alongside Jyn was the only thing that hadn’t changed or let him down. Of course he wanted gold as much as she did. But he wanted this more. Just to skate. With her.

Jyn tried to ignore the death grip Cassian had on her hand. His arm around her waist was almost bruising.

Ever since the accident, he wouldn’t stop stealing glances at her. She wasn’t a stranger to falling. Lifts were always tricky, even after the mechanics of which limb went where had been worked out.

Then again, she had never taken a fall quite as bad as she had at France.

After so long—too long—she was finally in the rink again with the cold nipping at her cheeks and the pleasant burn of exercise working through her muscles. The ice was fresh, clean, smooth, untouched by other skaters, the way she liked it. Cassian could be overprotective all he liked. She was enjoying herself too much.

“We should work on some spins while we’re here,” Jyn said.

“No,” Cassian replied, his gaze trained forward. “You said edges and footwork. That’s all we’re doing.”

With her skates on, she was right at eye level with his chin instead of his throat when she was bare foot. The muscle in his jaw ticked double-time. She was pushing it, pushing him farther than he’d like to go.

Good. He needed it.

“Fine,” Jyn replied. “Then don’t skate like a grandmother. Pick up the pace.”

“Jyn, you shouldn’t even be—”

Jyn stroked harder, pulling forward. Cassian dug in his heels, dragging behind. Her weight shifted onto her toes, but with only one functional arm—the same arm Cassian gripped tight—she had no way to counterbalance.

Her toe pick caught in the ice, stuttered. She faltered, swayed forward.

Cassian slid as he scooped her close to his chest. But the suddenness of Jyn’s impact against him sent him sprawling on his back, skidding a few inches.

It was a soft fall, one they had learned how to manage with nothing broken and barely any bruises if they did it right.

Jyn landed on top of Cassian, pillowed by his body. Her elbow jabbed him the gut and he let out a puff of air. With every inch of her pressed to him, legs tangled together, Cassian might have found the whole situation much more desirable if his heart wasn’t racing at how close Jyn had been to hurting herself all over again.

Cassian raised his head with a pointed look. “Are you finished?” he said. “Can you go back to watching television on my couch now?”

Jyn groaned. “God, no. We’ve only been here for five minutes.”

“You _fell_.”

“Technically, I didn’t. You caught me.”

Jyn planted her hand on the ice beside Cassian’s head, her fuzzy glove tickling his ear as she pushed herself up to look down at him.

“Just like I knew you would,” she added, triumphant.

“ _Jyn,_ ” Cassian sighed, long-suffering.

***

After practice, when Cassian retrieved Jyn’s duffel bag, she didn’t argue for once.

She had heckled and hounded him, pushing for more, always more. The ice beneath her blades was like a drug—a smooth, addictive high. Once the rush started, she didn’t want to stop.

But now that Jyn was on solid ground, cooled off, skates wiped down and put away, she realized how truly exhausted she was. And Cassian noticed.

“Don’t say it,” she said, sliding her flipflops onto her aching feet.

Cassian hitched her duffel bag over his shoulder alongside his own duffel.

“You’ve always worn flipflops after practice, Jyn,” he said. “No matter how cold it is outside. I’m not going to try and stop you now.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

Cassian pulled the door open and stepped aside for Jyn to pass through first.

“I know what you meant,” he said. “And I’m not going to say I told you so, even though you want me to.”

“Why?” Jyn demanded. She stopped in the doorway, chin raised at a defiant angle, waiting.

Cassian looked down at her, a little smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Didn’t you get your fill of arguing today?”

“I just want to prove that you’re wrong, that’s all.” She stepped into the parking lot, huddling deeper into her coat against the frigid wind biting through her clothes.

Cassian coughed a laugh as he followed her out the door, his brown eyes bright with amusement.

“Pretty much the same thing as a fight,” he countered.

“Admit that I’m right and we won’t argue about it,” Jyn said. Then—because she was incapable of passing up the opportunity of rubbing his nose in it a little bit—she added, “I didn’t hurt myself again.”

Cassian kept walking. He shook his head—the only response Jyn would get out of him on the subject. He unlocked the trunk of his car and deposited the duffel bags inside.

Jyn sagged into the passenger seat, her head tilted back, eyes closed. When Cassian opened his door, climbed in, and started the car, she thought about sitting up straight again, at least pretending she was in better shape than she really was.

But in the end, as the engine rumbled to life with a low, pleasant vibration, Jyn decided against it.

Two weeks had passed since Cassian had offered his flat for her to live in. The topic never came up again. Jyn knew he wouldn’t mention it. Between tension at home and the toll that training took on her body, Cassian wouldn’t add to her stress if he could help it.

So, he waited. And he would continue to wait until she was the one to bring it up when she was ready.

A thirty-minute drive stretched ahead of them, back to Jyn’s house. If traffic was bad, it might take twice as long as that. Up ‘til now, Jyn had managed to avoid situations like this, with long gaps of dead air time where _someone_ should say _something_ about that particular question Cassian had posed.

Yet neither of them ever did.

Jyn’s phone buzzed. She fished it from her pocket and found a text from Bodhi.

_Mum called today._

Jyn’s stomach pitched with dread. It was a harmless enough text. But the impact of those few words weighed heavy.

 _And?_ Jyn typed back.

_She said things are rough with Dad._

Jyn sighed. She set aside her phone, screen facing downward. When she was on the ice, she didn’t forget about the outside world. Too many things were wrapped up in her skating—her parents’ relationship falling apart, financial strain—to completely wipe it all from her thoughts.

But somehow, problems seemed…smaller as long as she was skating. Less intimidating and farther away, as if they couldn’t quite reach her with the warmth of Cassian’s arm around her waist coupled with the cold ice at her feet to keep her anchored.

After a minute, Jyn picked up her phone again to respond.

_That’s nothing new._

_She’s talking about a divorce._

Jyn’s breath hitched. She squeezed her phone so tight that her hand trembled. Lyra hadn’t mentioned it to her. Galen hadn’t, either.

Why did Bodhi know before she did? Just because he was older than her didn’t mean he was entrusted with more than she was. Bodhi had moved out three years ago. Jyn was the one who navigated the minefield at home, not him. And if this was the news waiting for her when she returned home today…maybe she could beg off and spend the night at Cassian’s flat. Not that it would change anything, only delay the inevitable reveal.

Jyn must have been staring at that one line— _she’s talking about a divorce_ —for too long. Cassian glanced at her and his hand slid down the steering wheel, drifted towards her. He placed two fingers on the top of her knee.

“Is everything all right?”

Jyn nodded and shoved her phone back into her pocket. But she couldn’t look at him. There wasn’t much she could hide from him, no matter how hard she tried. One glimpse of her face and he would see everything she avoided admitting to herself. She propped her chin on her fist and turned towards the window.

Cassian studied her for a moment or two longer. Then he cranked up the heat, angling the vents her way.

“Are you warm enough?” he said.

Again, Jyn nodded, her gaze trained out the window, not at him.

For the rest of the drive, Cassian left her alone. He kept the radio off and he didn’t ask any more questions.

It wasn’t until Cassian turned onto Jyn’s street that Jyn spoke again. She was slouched deep into her seat, a boiling feeling settled firmly in her gut. She always handled bad news by pushing back, lashing out, training harder in the gym or on the ice until she vomited and the pain in her body was worse than the ache in her chest.

As it happened, Cassian was in her line of fire this time around.

“I can’t move in with you,” she said.

Which was not what her original answer had been. She wanted to say yes. She was going to say yes.

Cassian covered the shock of her words well. But not quite well enough. Jyn noticed the faint stutter of his breath, the rapid blink of his eyelashes to betray the surprise of her answer. It was too blunt of a delivery, sudden and harsh. He had fully expected her to say yes.

“Okay,” was all Cassian said.

Jyn pressed her eyes shut and her forehead thunked against the window. Why couldn’t he get angry right back at her when she needed it the most?

Instead, Cassian simply sat there and absorbed her blow. During practice, he argued for hours straight, fighting her nearly every step of the way.

But he wouldn’t do it now.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” Jyn said, sharp, hard.

She wished she could stop. She didn’t want to hurt Cassian like this. But her momentum was already arcing her into a spin of destruction.

“It’s your decision,” Cassian replied evenly. “The offer still stands if you change your mind.”

He pulled up to her house, turning into the driveway. After he put the car in park, he shifted in his seat to fully face her.

“I’m trying to make things easier for us here, Jyn,” he said. “We’re a team. We work through things together, remember?”

Movement caught Jyn’s attention. Lyra came to stand in the doorway of the house, arms crossed around her middle, shoulders hunched against the cold. She looked tired. Worn down. Empty after giving so much of herself, to her husband, to her daughter, to holding her family together when it was fracturing in her hands. Nothing remained for herself.

 _Not this,_ Jyn thought. _I don’t want you anywhere near this, let alone caught up in it._

“I have to go,” she said as she shoved the door open.

Before Cassian could get out of the car, Jyn had dragged her duffel bag from the trunk, hauling it up the steps to the house. Cassian lingered by the car, unsure what to do with himself when Jyn had already left him behind.

“Cassian,” Lyra called, her light tone cracking a bit from the effort. “Don’t just stand out there. Come inside. Get warmed up. There’s hot tea. Lunch won’t be ready for another hour but—"

“He’s busy, Mum,” Jyn cut in, even as the words burned on her tongue.

Cassian always stayed for a meal after practice. As Jyn dumped her duffel bag by the door and stripped off her coat, she glimpsed the dining room table down the hallway. Four place settings—one for Galen, which went unused every night. One for Lyra. One for Jyn. And one for Cassian.

Lyra remained in the doorway, looking unsure. Jyn glanced past her to see Cassian still standing next to the car in the cold, coat collar turned up against the wind, hands shoved in his pockets.

“I’ll see you at practice tomorrow,” she said.

Then she closed the door, shutting him out.


End file.
